A Fine March Day
by Daroga's Rainy Daae
Summary: Something has happened to Erik that will change his life forever; and the only thing that can keep him alive while suffering his fate is Christine. ENJOY :) Ch.12 up!
1. Chapter One

The day it happened was a day Erik would never forget. It was the day he was cursed, the day in which his dearest gift was taken from him, and it wasn't fair. It wouldn't have been fair to the next guy, but it was most horribly unfair to Erik. It was that evil, sunny day... March 20th.  
  
Erik awoke, stifling hot. When he tried to sit up, he found it to his amazement that he most certainly could not. He remembered that this 20th was when Christine was to come back to sing with him, and well, if he couldn't even move... He didn't want to waste this day. If she left while he was in this state, she wouldn't come back for another week, and he just wouldn't be able to stand that.  
  
Finally, Erik gathered up enough strength to pull himself up on his elbows, but a sudden wave of dizziness and a horrible ringing in his head brought him to his back once more. It was as if he had gained 500 pounds that last night... Something was definitely wrong.  
  
Shaking weakly, he rolled out of his coffin onto the floor with a heavy thud, and a burst of pain and queasiness overtook him, making him wince in silent agony. Erik's mind wasn't working quite right, but the one thought that buzzed through his head at the moment was stronger than ever; he had to make it to the WC at any cost.  
  
He failed tremendously and only made it a couple inches to his bedroom door before vomiting all over his expensive rug.  
  
There was no mistaking it; he was down with SOMETHING.  
  
There were only two remedies Erik could think useful when one was sick; bed rest, and water. Well, due to his stupid attempts at getting out of bed, the floor would just have to do. As for water... there was no WAY he could make it to the kitchen. His only option was -- Ayesha's water bowl, which was about two feet out of reach.  
  
Erik pulled himself towards Ayesha's water, gasping for breath within seconds. When he was close enough to look down into the dish, he almost vomited again. There were bits of soggy food floating around in there, and a drowned fly.  
  
'No way, there is no way in hell I'm drinking that,' Erik thought to himself. Giving up, he just decided to lay stupidly on the floor. It made his head throb to even turn it, so he uncomfortably positioned himself on his back, pulling off his cloak with effort.  
  
Soon, he was in a delusional slumber.  
  
A countless number of hours later, Ayesha woke him by walking on his chest annoyingly. Erik pushed her off drowsily and looked around the room. He felt a bit better. When he sat up, the same dizziness came, and he had to fall back to the floor. At least he didn't feel like throwing up anymore.  
  
Ayesha came into view again, opening her mouth in a silent meow, as if she needed something.  
  
Suddenly, something clicked in Erik's brain, and he sat up straight in terror, ignoring the painful dizziness. He grabbed Ayesha weakly, petting her soft head in a hurry, waiting for a purr.  
  
There came none.  
  
What was wrong with his cat? Was she sick too?  
  
Erik pulled Ayesha closer to look at her, and as he did so, his hand came over her throat. It vibrated like a tiny rattle. He kept it there for a moment in confusion, feeling the slight pause in her silent purr every time she took another breath.  
  
As a matter of fact...  
  
Erik couldn't hear the normal ticking of his clock, or the mice in the ceiling, or...  
  
"Hey! Hey!" Erik shouted. But he didn't say a word. "HEY!" Erik bellowed as loud as he could, having to drop to his back once more from the pain that had gathered in his body from sitting up for so long. He knew he was shouting, but he could not hear a word of it...  
  
On that dreadful March day... Erik had gone deaf.  
  
  
  
A/N: Eeps! Tell me if this was a horrible beginning... I got the inspiration for it from my ASL class, that's actually how my teacher went deaf. Anywho, please tell me if I should continue this!!!! :) 


	2. Chapter Two

After Christine had gone through the mirror in her dressing room, and down the narrow corridors to Erik's dark home, she expected to hear organ music floating hauntingly from the walls, but all was silent. Unless you counted the faint patter of tiny rat footsteps, there was no sound of life at all.  
  
That's the way it often was. She was used to it.  
  
Cautiously, she creaked her teacher's door open, glancing around the entry fretfully, a bit frightened that she might have barged in on something important. She shuddered, remembering the last time she had barged into other peoples business. She hadn't liked the results, and didn't want to make a mistake like that again.  
  
Christine opened the door to Erik's music room to see if he was consumed in scribbling notes down, but he wasn't there.  
  
The next most likely place was his bedroom.  
  
When Christine entered Erik's room, she found that he was propped against the wall in a sitting position, petting Ayesha as he stared off into space.  
  
"Erik?" She asked, giving him a worried look. "Is there something wrong?" She instantly regretted the slightly hopeful tone of her voice, as if she really didn't want to sing with him. The truth, was that she was never exactly comfortable when Erik was around, so therefore, always waited anxiously for when it was time to leave. And yet... she enjoyed the musical portion of the stay. Sometimes, when they were singing together, she would forget momentarily the face beneath the mask, and would feel truly wonderfully around him.  
  
Erik, nit hearing her, continued to stroke his elegant feline. Instead, he said in an awkward sort of voice; "Christine, you shouldn't stay."  
  
"Why not?" Christine asked loudly. She never really expected him to reject her company, this caught her COMPLETELY off guard.  
  
When Erik saw that she hadn't moved, he talked louder, but still with a strange tone of voice that Christine wondered about along with his behavior.  
  
"Leave, Christine. You should go. Nod if you understand," Erik said.  
  
Christine shook her head. "I don't understand," she said plainly.  
  
Erik stared at her for a moment, concentrating on her lips. "Say that again," he requested.  
  
"I don't understand," she repeated in bewilderment. The phantom sighed in frustration and waved his hand in annoyance.  
  
"I don't need you to stay anymore," Erik said hollowly. "You can leave."  
  
Now that Christine thought about it, she really HAD looked forward to singing with Erik, and didn't want to leave when she had traveled all that way for nothing. "Sing with me first," she protested. "Just one song... please?"  
  
Erik narrowed his eyebrows. "Who needs music anymore," he barely whispered, resting his forehead on his hands as if in deep thought.  
  
Now Christine was genuinely shocked. "Erik, what are you talking about?" She asked shrilly, not knowing if he was rudely closing his eyes or not because of the mask. There was no reply. "Erik!" Christine strode across the room to him and stared down.  
  
He didn't look up, so she bravely stooped, tipping her face into view. He was looking at the ground as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.  
  
"What's wrong?" Christine repeated, this time in serious concern.  
  
"Things change," Erik muttered slowly. She wasn't sure if he was answering her question, or just talking to himself anymore. He actually looked like he was conversing with the rug. "Sometimes it's for the better, and you usually don't understand... hell, I don't even understand."  
  
"What's for the better? What don't you understand?" Christine asked, urging him to go on.  
  
In an instant of fury, Erik banged his fists on the side of the wall, which made Christine jump, her eyes widening. "Though it's never the better for me, now, is it?" He shouted sarcastically.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Christine demanded. "I'm going to leave if you don't start acting normally!"  
  
Erik looked up at the girl. "Why are you still here?" he asked, the first question directed towards her in a while. "I told you to leave."  
  
"Well, if you want me to!" Christine huffed, standing from her crouched position. She later realized that when she was waiting for Erik to make sense, she had been the closest she had ever gotten before becoming uncomfortable around him. Strangely ironic...  
  
She took one last glance at Erik before exiting the room. "Madman," she whispered to herself. "When will he EVER make sense?" Christine was about to leave the house entirely, but at the last second, changed her mind. If Erik was less nutty in the morning, she would get to the bottom of this weirdness.  
  
Erik watched as the girl he loved left the room in haughty confusion, thinking she would never return. Would she? What did she care? The phantom doesn't want to sing with her anymore. The kidnapper is letting her free. Now who would deny THAT privilege? No longer was she bound under him. She could leave without feeling guilty every time. He didn't want her anymore. But he did! Why couldn't he tell her the truth? She would find out sooner or later anyway...  
  
"Christine, don't go," Erik mouthed, tears pricking the back of his eyes. Why was he cursed with this? Why him? Why?  
  
It could have been anyone at all... it could have! It just wasn't fair the way the world worked. Or maybe the way the world broke... what a thought.  
  
All he knew, was that he needed his music to live, and he needed Christine for his music... as his inspiration... his will to keep on writing it, because he knew that someone was there to share it with him. Christine- less and music-less, Erik forgot about the world around him, remembering he was all alone. There was nobody and nothing there.  
  
"I would have drunken the water, you know," he said mockingly to Ayesha. "I would rather have gone blind, too.. but you know how I am. I would rather have broken all my limbs. I would have rather..." he trailed off, thinking of all the other possible things that could have happened to him. "How deafening silence can be," Erik whispered now more to himself than his cat, shaking his head bitterly. "And how extremely maddening..."  
  
All at once, the full impact of all the agony and grief, confusion and realization hit him right through the chest, and his heart skipped a painful beat, making him squint in an embarrassed way, feeling alone and lost, trying not to cry and failing tremendously.  
  
  
  
A/N: Yeah! I got 7 reviews, all right! I WAS only expected about 2 or 3, you know how it is.. but this really surprised me! I must have made a catchy summary for once! Hurrah! :) 


	3. Chapter Three

When Christine went to check on Erik the next morning, softly opening his door in case he was still asleep, she found that he was, and very soundly, too.  
  
She watched him for a moment. There was no sign that anything was wrong...  
  
Yes, she had been thinking all night about the way Erik had been acting. He didn't want her. He didn't want his music. There was something wrong and she was going to get to the bottom of it. And if he didn't tell her, she would FORCE it out of him.  
  
What a thought running through her head... force it out of him, feh. How could she ever bring up the courage to do a thing like that? And if she ever did, then how would she go about doing it?  
  
With all these questions running through her head, Christine finally gathered up enough courage to make up her mind about waking Erik up. And so she commenced to do so. And she also stayed put.  
  
'Move, move,' Christine urged herself. 'What are you afraid of? He's just a man, you scared little girl!'  
  
She took a step. She was progressing. She took another step. More progress. When she finally made it to Erik's side, she could only look down at him, hardly daring to breathe.  
  
He barely looked peaceful from this angle. He seemed restless, and even though he was sleeping, he still looked as if he had been up all night.  
  
"Erik," she tried to say, but she only mouthed the words. She cleared her throat, which sounded like a gunshot going off in the room. Quickly, Christine covered her mouth and paused for a good four minutes, fearing he would wake up, grumpy and strange like the night before. But he didn't even stir. "Erik," she said, her voice rising. "Erik! Wake up!" She was whispering hoarsely now.  
  
"Erik!" She called, almost at a shout. "What, are you dead? I never thought you were the kind to be a heavy sleeper, you know!" Erik shifted ever so slightly, which made Christine jump in terror. When her heart rate was back to normal, she tried again.  
  
"Erik! Wake UP!" She really DID shout this time, but to no avail. With the tip of her pointer finger, she reached out and poked the Phantom in the arm, barely touching his sleeve.  
  
Erik's eyes shot open, causing Christine to shriek bloody murder. She jumped back as he blinked a few times, all the while, struggling to wake himself up all the way and sitting upright.  
  
"Christine!" he cried, "What ARE you doing here?"  
  
Her voice caught in her throat. When she finally unstuck it, she said meekly, "I want to know..." she trailed off, burning with embarrassment. This was not going as she first thought it would. Thoughts of her courageously demanded for an explanation vanished, as she cowered under the man's eyes alone.  
  
"Christine," Erik continued in a softer voice which Christine detected a bit of sadness in, "I cannot sing with you! Why are you here?"  
  
"I wish to know what's wrong," she muttered, her lips barely moving.  
  
"If you want me to understand you, dear, you're going to have to speak up," Erik whispered softer than her. Christine pulled her head up and stared at Erik sadly.  
  
"Why can't you tell me?" She asked him slowly.  
  
"It is nothing..." Erik lied, horribly.  
  
"Do you not love me anymore?" Christine asked. "Are you tired of teaching me?" She asked innocently, tears brimming her eyes.  
  
"It's nothing about you," Erik replied quickly, guessing by the way her lips formed the word 'me' and the crushing look on her face, "It would never be about you!"  
  
"Then what?" Christine asked. "Erik, you must tell me what's bothering you!"  
  
"Christine, I can't talk with you! I can't sing with you, and I can't keep you from your life anymore. I can't teach you! It is because..." he trailed off, dreading what he was about to say.  
  
"Because of what, Erik? I don't understand!" Christine said.  
  
"I can't hear you, Christine," Erik barely whispered. "I can't hear your name fall from my lips, such a beautiful name! And I can't hear you, nor myself, nor anything anymore! All I hear is silence, and in silence, I can only hear my thoughts! I can imagine your voice, I can create an artificial voice in my head, but soon, I will not be able to hear even that anymore! I will forget my voice! I will forget yours! I will keep falling until I reach the bottom..." Erik broke off and began to feel misty himself. He turned away from Christine in shame.  
  
"Erik..." she muttered, fresh tears falling from her eyes. "I'm sorry..."  
  
Erik echoed her, his back still turned.  
  
"There is no reason," Christine said, her voice quivering with sadness, a new wave of pity flowing through her, "For me to leave. Why should I? Why would I? I will stay down here until you find a way to do something. I will help you, and I will stay. Forever, if I have to! Erik!" She put her hand on his shoulder and he turned to her. His mask was a bit damp. "I am not afraid," Christine said slowly. He tried to read her lips.  
  
"I am not afraid," she repeated. "I am not afraid. Do you understand, Erik?"  
  
"You.. you aren't..." Erik breathed.  
  
Christine smiled and wiped her eyes. "I am NOT afraid, Erik! Let me help you." Erik took in a quick breath, not knowing how to react. Christine, on the other hand, knew one thing to do.  
  
She finally forgot about what was behind Erik's mask, forgot about what he looked like, and just let herself instinctively embrace him. It was comforting, she knew only this. And what a nice moment to use such a handy technique.  
  
Erik shuddered in complete shock, and tensed, his brain going numb. This was the very first, the absolute FIRST time anyone had EVER touched him like this. And he wanted the moment to last forever.  
  
Finally, the shock died away, and he relaxed. Just as he was getting used to the luxurious feeling of being hugged, Christine let him go and stared him in the eyes.  
  
"We will fix things." She said, "Everything will get better. You'll see."  
  
And for the next moment, Erik really did believe her.  
  
  
  
A/N: Okay, that chapter was nicer, now, wasn't it? Well, I must say I've been getting some pretty interesting reviews, and I just have to say... I didn't want to be COMPLETELY horrible to Erik! I just wanted a crucial excuse to get Christine closer to him! (Which you found to work quite nicely in this chapter by the way, eheheh..) ENJOY! :) 


	4. Chapter Four

Everything went down hill from that day Christine decided to stay with Erik. A week passed and nothing progressed; partly because of Erik's horribly short temper, and his lack of will to try to live with his new condition. He wouldn't face the facts that he would never again be the way he was before, and he kept trying to find bizarre ways to gain his hearing back... mostly from madness.  
  
Christine caught him more than once trying to hear the sound of his organ by standing on the keys and pressing his ear against the pipes in attempt to hear even the slightest sound from the blaring instrument; a stunt in which if he HAD been able to hear, it would have made him deaf with the addition of a continual ringing in his ears. Instead, it left him with a great throbbing of the head, even though he successfully heard nothing.  
  
Erik didn't want to learn sign language.. "What's the use," he'd say, "I don't want to learn some pointless way of communication, when I never communicate with people! I want to HEAR!" And he wouldn't look on the bright side, which Christine had been trying to get him to do. He'd just reply sarcastically, "Isn't there a song about looking on the bright side?"(Though he still wasn't sure if there really was one), which would leave Christine more than guilty, and hush up about that rubbish.  
  
Christine reminded Erik of Beethoven, the deaf composer, and Erik would just laugh, "Beethoven was a damned genius!"  
  
Every way Christine tried to help him, Erik had some snide remark to add. She soon just figured out that it was no use, and the only way Erik would ever be happy again would be if he regained his hearing. Which he most likely wouldn't. What a stubborn man he was! Although, one time, Christine snapped after one very rude comeback of Erik's, and she just couldn't take it anymore. That was a week and two days after Erik's sudden disability.  
  
"Erik!" She shouted, slamming down a giant book of deaf history so hard it shook the whole house, making Erik's eyes snap back to where Christine sat from staring at the ceiling. "I've tried to help you in so many different ways! I've stayed up all night for you, you don't have ANY idea of what I've tried to do! And if you would just cooperate - once! If you would give me a break just for a minute, everything would be fine, but it keeps on seeming more and more as if you want just the opposite! It's impossible to help you, Erik, when you don't want any help!" Christine shouted this, pointing her finger at him the whole time and ranting quite exaggerated so it was easy enough for Erik to understand.  
  
She took a short breath and said, "Fine! You gave up the instant I started helping you... so, so... I'm giving up too! I'm not going to do this if you're not even TRYING, Erik!" Her expression softened back to the way she normally was, but her voice still boomed louder than ever. "I wanted to HELP you," she said, "And you turned everything I've done for you down so far..." Christine glared at the silent Erik for a moment. "So, make your decision... what is it? To accept your fate, or let it swallow you up? Tell me... quick, because I feel like leaving and never coming back right now."  
  
There was still more silence.  
  
"Erik," Christine said, "Which do you choose? To sink or float?"  
  
Erik was just about to ask which was better; to struggle above water for a few minutes before sinking anyway, or just getting it over with?, but he resisted the temptation to push Christine further. So instead, he sighed deeply, paused for a moment, and said, "I'll keep at it," Erik muttered, "but only if you stay."  
  
"Yes, that's mainly the idea," Christine teased. Erik wasn't looking, though. She poked him to get his attention. He turned to her obediently. "I read... that the deaf use throat vibrations to find the tone of their voices... maybe if you got used to the vibrations of your organ... you could write music just as easily as you did before," she suggested weakly.  
  
Erik nodded forcefully, trying to look even mildly interested.  
  
That's how the day went; Christine giving him more ideas and tips straight from the books she had been reading, boring him of his mind and making him look fascinated, besides.  
  
She just didn't get it... he didn't want VIBRATIONS... his music was to please himself, not others... and if HE couldn't hear it and enjoy it, then why make it in the first place? To him, nobody but Christine deserved to be a part of his music.  
  
It was late before Christine finally dozed off on the couch when Erik left to the confines of his music room, sitting at his organ and not playing a note. For hours it seemed, and it may well have been, Erik stared at the ivory keys of his powerful instrument, imagining the individual notes each played for him, and he heard his Don Juan being played on it, and all the songs he and Christine had sung with it as an accompaniment...  
  
Finally, slowly, Erik lifted his fingers and rested one on a cold, recently- unused key, almost hearing the note, knowing it was being emitted from the organ at that very moment. He felt the vibration underneath his fingertips, but that was all. There was still silence. Still that evil, taunting, maddening silence...  
  
With an outburst of fury that had similarly come often from the moment he had lost his hearing, Erik stood up, letting his bench tumble off behind him as he kicked furiously at his organ that would play him no music. He kicked through the wooden walls of his old instrument, tore up the smooth, perfect ivory keys, bent the tallest, mocking pipes... he didn't stop until all of his anger was melted into shameful self pity in which by then, his organ was in as horrible of shape as he was.  
  
In the middle of the mess, he was somewhere between the second and third row of keys, which was now a pile of broken teeth, leaning against the bending pipes and gasping for the breath he could not hear escape his lungs.  
  
He was a bird without wings. Now he just waited for the cat to come and finish him off.  
  
  
  
A/N: Yeah, yeah.. depressing chapter. Next one's comin' soon! Thanks for alla reviews! YAY!! :) 


	5. Chapter Five

Christine awoke from a vivid nightmare, checking the clock that read 3:30. She went to the dark kitchen to grab a glass of water, in which she took one sip of and set on the counter before going to check on Erik. When she found his room was empty, the only logical place other than that was his music room. She was afraid of what she might see, but opened the door anyway. When Christine looked in, she found the destroyed organ and Erik sleeping in still silence near it. The girl's heart dropped as she realized nothing she had said or tried to do had helped him in the slightest. She took this note as her own failure.  
  
"What do I have to do to make you happy?" Christine whispered, as if Erik might hear her. "Tell me, if there is any other option than your music... tell me you can live without it..." she stepped inside, closing the door because she feared Erik might wake up by the faint glow of the candle she had set up outside the music room, and for almost an hour, all she did was stand there and stare at him, wishing she could do something for him, and knowing she could not unless he did something himself, first.  
  
With one mighty sigh and a shake of her head, Christine decided to return to the comfort of sleep; it was the only unreality she could handle. Closing the door behind her, she stole one more glance at Erik's troubled form, knowing that not even in slumber could he awake from his horrors.  
  
Erik woke up early the next morning with a sharp pain in his right foot, and his hands throbbing. When he looked down at his fingers, he saw they were bloody, only then remembering the tantrum he had thrown the last night. He suddenly felt like hitting himself over the head; what was he thinking when he ruined the instrument? And yet... he didn't feel very sorry for it... On second thought, he wasn't feeling very much of anything at the moment, besides the fact that he ached from his fight with the organ.  
  
He tried to stand, but with a rattle-sounding crack that he couldn't hear (but could obviously feel), Erik was down again, inspecting his foot which was turned at a gruesome angle. That only made him think... how hard exactly had he kicked that thing? Stupid temper, stupid temper, stupid temper...  
  
Christine busted into the room with a wondering/worried look on her face. Had he yelled? He didn't believe he had... But did he?  
  
"Erik, are you all right?" Christine asked, then added, "I mean... you shouted something."  
  
Erik mentally slapped himself. "Right, Christine, I was... I was dreaming. That's why now - I'm awake," he lied. Christine surveyed him up and down. He tried his best to act casually, his attempts completely ruined for the fact that there was a huge pile of wood and ivory right behind him. Although, Christine didn't seem to notice the organ (odd, it was right there), she DID notice the way he instinctively crossed his arms to dull the throbbing sting in his fingers, and that he stared very guiltily at the ceiling, and the floor, and everywhere else but Christine's eyes.  
  
"You're not, are you? Don't you understand you've just added to your troubles...?" Christine was glad Erik hadn't heard her. She was sure if he had known what she just said, he would have said SOMETHING absolutely crushing. "Come, Erik, let's go into the living room to think about the future."  
  
This time, Erik was watching inconspicuously. "Let's... stay right here. This place is nice."  
  
"Erik, it's a mess," she objected, "Let's go into the other room like we've been doing."  
  
"I don't want to," he grumbled.  
  
"Now you're acting like a child!" Christine said, placing her hands on her hips.  
  
"Am I? I hadn't noticed," Erik said, trying to stall her.  
  
"Come," Christine begged.  
  
"I'm not your dog, thank you."  
  
Christine stormed up to Erik and grabbed his hands, making him shout in pain. "You see!?" She cried, "Why can't you tell me anything? Don't you trust me? What, are you ashamed of your behavior? Well, it's not very hard to notice what you took your anger out on!"  
  
Erik pulled his hands away. "I will do what I like," he hissed fiercely.  
  
"Erik! You're missing the point! All you're doing is hurting yourself worse, and digging your hole deeper, when you could be using all your effort for other things than making yourself suffer! Think of something, that can keep you happy!" Christine huffed. Erik stared. "You know there's something that can keep you going, even if you have no music."  
  
"I know what," Erik muttered.  
  
"Then what is it?" Christine said, this time it was she that stared.  
  
"Something very, very good I can tell you that," he answered pathetically.  
  
"Then WHAT? I'll help you," Christine said, opening her hands and waiting for Erik to reveal what was 'very, very good'. There was no reply to this. "Well...?" She stood, hands on hips again, waiting patiently.  
  
Erik blushed from ear to ear, oh, thank God he was wearing a mask. He couldn't tell her... if she laughed at his answer, he would die. And of she didn't laugh, he would imagine her laughing anyway, and it would be so incredibly terrible.  
  
"I, it's... it's like this... there's... and..." Erik stuttered and glowed brighter than ever - he knew she could see something lighting up, even behind his mask! He was done for!  
  
"Are you ill?" Christine asked, misinterpreting his chattering teeth and the way he trembled from head to toe.  
  
"YES!" He burst with relief, panting softly before returning almost to normal. "Yes," he breathed, "I am feeling quite ill."  
  
"Here," Christine said tenderly, "let's get you in a nice bed, shall we? This cold hard floor is quite unpleasant, and it's no way to recover." With that, she commenced to help him up, but he startled her again with a small cry.  
  
"No!" he objected, waving her helping hands away. "I don't need any assistance.."  
  
"What's the matter with you, Erik?" Christine grumbled, "Of course you do, look, you're shaking all over.." Then she took his hand and pulled it up, all he could do was follow it.  
  
Erik yelled and collapsed back to the ground, grabbing his foot automatically.  
  
"Oh, Erik," Christine mumbled, "You're not very secretive, now, are you? Is there anything else I need to know about? Broken neck, perhaps?" She wondered sarcastically.  
  
"I'm sorry, Christine," Erik said, "It's not like I MEANT to lose my temper... it just happens, you know how it is."  
  
"Yes, we'll need to work on that," Christine said. Then she smiled sympathetically at him, which made Erik go red again.  
  
"Yes..?" He wondered.  
  
"This does put a new meaning to 'don't beat yourself up about something', now, doesn't it?" She said this kindly, looking very sad and wonderful at the same time.  
  
I love you, Christine, and I guess I mean it in a 'so close, but yet so far away' kind of way, he thought to himself, starting to laugh. Christine thought he was laughing at her own little joke, and smiled a little herself. Though Erik continued, and Christine didn't notice the self- mocking tone of his voice, nor that the laughing soon turned into nothing more than sobs altogether.  
  
  
  
A/N: YAY! I liked this chapter, I dunno. Why do I even have these A/N thingy's at the end of each chapter anyway, it's not like I have anything to say, or anything anyone wants to hear... unless you want me to say... I'm SORRY for not updating sooner! Sorry, sorry! But I hope I made up for it by writing an extra-long chapter... for me anyway. Ciao! :) 


	6. Chapter Six

After almost another full week of being in the cellars with Erik, Christine's pattern shifted. She told him she had to leave for a while, but only for a little bit. Erik agreed to her wish, understanding quite clearly that she needed a break; she had stayed with him for two weeks now, the longest period of time she had ever been able to stand him. So she left, no problem. Erik could wait a couple of days. And sure enough, a few days later, Christine returned. But she had to leave again after only a night, this time.  
  
"Why, Christine, you came just yesterday!" Erik protested. "You mustn't leave so soon."  
  
"I must," Christine answered, "I can't look suspicious."  
  
"Just one more day," Erik pleaded.  
  
"Not another. I'm expected back," she said, and closed the door behind her. Erik expected Christine to come back into his house, but she didn't. Instead, he watched her shadow pass as she walked past his small, dirty window to the row boat. She climbed in and sailed away briskly, looking as if she had a lot on her mind.  
  
Erik watched her leave, stunned and silent. Finally, he whispered, "Yes, Christine. Rejoin with your chorus. It's for the best."  
  
Patient and thoughtful, Erik turned his attention to Ayesha. "She is losing hope for me, I suppose," he said to her, stroking the cat's silky fur, "It doesn't take long for one to lose interest in something. Like a cat and his toy, isn't it? If he can't catch it soon, he ignores it until it comes back to him. I may just have to go to Christine if she will follow me back down here again. She's lost interest in me, I know. The only thing I was good for, was singing. I can still sing, I'm not a mute, you understand. I'll just take her away with my voice if she doesn't return soon."  
  
Ayesha purred and flicked her tail, rubbing her head against Erik's hand.  
  
As he had expected, Christine did not return anytime soon. It was four days before Erik decided to finally see what that girl was up to, and why she was so busy that she couldn't even pay him a visit. So he ventured above ground to find her. Without his ears, he had to be extra cautions.. in case someone came at him from behind, or if he didn't hear a person coming. Oh, this was going to be difficult. But he was a trapdoor master; if he couldn't disappear without his ears, he wasn't very good, now, was he? Then of course, he would have no problem if someone spotted him. An added bonus if they catch him for a few seconds longer than they ever had before... more interesting rumors.  
  
Although, he had to admit... the rumors were growing a bit boring. He only helped the chorus girls to start them for something to do when he didn't have Christine to occupy his time. The oddest thing... when he first decided to live in the cellars of the opera house, he hadn't planned on socializing with the chorus girls... most ironic...  
  
When he made it to Christine's dressing room, Erik found that she wasn't there. In conclusion, he thought to himself that she must've been out. He would have said it to himself, but he was afraid he might have talked too loud, in case a person was coming down the hall outside the room. Erik traveled farther down the tunnels behind the wall to civilization, coming upon a trap door of his that lead to the auditorium. Christine wasn't there, either.  
  
Finally, he checked the entrance hall. Miraculously, there she was, striding down in the opposite direction of him. He pulled back through the wall, pursuing the girl and opening a trapdoor right near to her, probably five feet away, hidden by a pillar. He was just about to call out to Christine, when she spun around and started talking to a man that had just then entered his field of vision. Leaving the trapdoor, Erik stood behind the marble pillar to get a better look at what the two were talking about.  
  
All he could lip read - they were talking much too quickly - were a few words here and there. He recognized the words 'see you', and started to think they were talking about something that had to do with meetings and... oh, it was impossible to tell.  
  
Their conversation ended, and Christine was just turning around to leave again, when the man put a hand on her shoulder in a way that made Erik pay even sharper attention. He said a few more words, then Christine leaned forward, and they kissed.  
  
Erik was so taken aback and shocked, he could do nothing but stare as the two of them planted their lips, and even afterwards, he did not blink, and he did not stop staring, and not even after Christine and the devil parted their own ways, did he look away from the very spot that they had stood...  
  
Suddenly, Erik could no longer feel his legs and he had to lean against the pillar to steady himself, but it didn't help, so he slumped silently to the floor, still staring, and by now he was rigid, with unclear emotions; hate, desperation, love, sadness, helplessness, loneliness, and yet... he thought nothing. His ears and thoughts were silent, and only his heart cried out, shrieking louder than any mortal voice could scream, and only then did he finally feel the physical pain of every beat...  
  
"Christine..." Erik whispered. His voice could have been a breeze if it hadn't have been so agonizing. "Christine..."  
  
It did not occur to Erik that the opera house was now devoid of any one person. All had retired to their homes, and not even the managers lurked their office. So nobody could hear the screams Erik thought he did not yell, the maddening cries he didn't even realize he was making, even though he continued for so long that when he finally silenced, too sad to weep, his throat was choked with raw blood. All he could do was continue to stare, unmoving, unblinking, numb and useless, wishing this were all a bad dream, and knowing it wasn't. He had lost his music. He had lost his love. There was nothing left.  
  
  
  
A/N: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm so evil to my Erik, next chapter will be nicer, I promise.... maybe.... ah well. Please review! :) PS - don't get mad at me if I have any errors in this.. I didn't have enough time to look it over for a second time to see if it flowed... *ahem*... :) 


	7. Chapter Seven

Christine returned to the lair two days later, happier than she had been for a very long time indeed. After the struggles of using all of her effort to comfort Erik, she decided she really needed a break. So Christine took her break time to catch up on things; like the upcoming opera in which she would have a small part in. To her surprise one morning, she had run into an old friend and playmate, Raoul Vicomte de Chagny. He had asked her to dinner, they chatted and caught up on the times. And they had kissed.  
  
It was unexpected. It was in the middle of a sentence (just the right time for a perfect kiss from a perfect guy)... yes. She knew she was in love with this man, after only three days of talking and getting together with him. He had an irresistable charm about him, and every time she talked with Raoul, she was at peace. She could get used to this.  
  
Happy and refreshed, Christine opened the door of Erik's house. She found him on his couch, staring off in deep thought. He hadn't noticed her. "Erik?" Christine strode up to him and tapped the man on the shoulder.  
  
He jumped slightly, stared up at Christine and croaked softly, "You're here."  
  
"Yes," she answered him, nodding once. "How are you?"  
  
He ignored her question. "Where have you been, Christine?" Erik asked quietly.  
  
"Practicing for another opera, Erik," she answered truthfully. It wasn't the whole truth, though...  
  
"Yes, dear, with your lovely voice, that is apparent," he sighed. "What else?"  
  
"Else? There is nothing else. What else could you mean? I have slept and eaten," Christine lied guiltily this time. Thank God he couldn't hear her.  
  
"There is no more?" Erik asked sufferingly.  
  
Christine hesitated. "No..."  
  
"You lie," he answered, looking away from her.  
  
"I don't know what... you're..." Christine trailed off. Erik saw by the look on her face that she was trying to act confused. "Erik!" She grabbed his shoulder. He turned to her sharply. "Have you been spying on me?"  
  
"Spying? No, of course not," Erik answered still in his soft, scratched voice. "Why?"  
  
"I thought.." Christine trailed off again.  
  
"You thought that I might see you with someone? Perhaps with another man?" Erik guessed tauntingly.  
  
"You DID spy!" Christine cried, jerking her hand away from his shoulder as she jumped from the couch. "Erik..."  
  
"Stop there, Christine," Erik whispered dangerously. "Stop right there. No explaining. I was not spying. I came to bring you back here, and I saw you with him! The man you kissed!"  
  
Christine hushed up and stared sorrowfully at Erik, who, all of a sudden leapt from the couch himself, clenching his fists.  
  
"Christine!" He crowed sadly, "I saw you! I saw you and him! The both of you looked so happy... I had NEVER seen you so happy with me! You love him, but you do not love me! And I love you more than anything!" It was finally out, but Christine did not laugh at him. She didn't look disgusted, only sad and pale. "I cannot live without you! You are the air that I breathe, did you know this!? What is it this man has that I do not!? Why, if I love you so, why can I not make you happy!?"  
  
Christine shook her head, a simple gesture that meant that she could not answer... she was lost completely for words. Erik stabbed her with every further sound of his voice.  
  
"Is it that he is a handsome fellow!? Is it that he can hear your magnificent voice!? I am sorry, Christine, for never giving you what you deserved! You will never love me, as long as you have that man!" Erik's voice caught in his throat. "What can I give you, now!?" He asked painfully. "Please... tell me the truth! Tell me you do not wish to see me anymore and I will die, but it will be the truth, Christine! I will die, but I will die knowing the truth! Tell me that you hate me, if that is the truth!" Erik stared at Christine pleadingly, setting himself back onto the couch as he did not have the strength to stand anymore. "Tell me..."  
  
"I do not wish to part with you, Erik," Christine murmured. Erik continued to stare at her. "Erik! I will not let you down! I'm not about to leave you! Not right now, not ever! Not as long as you live!"  
  
"You lie again, Christine!" Erik moaned, shaking his head helplessly, "You will return to your love, and you will continue to love him! I cannot help that you love him, Christine! Don't lie to me, when you lie, you hurt me more than ever! Or maybe that is what you want.."  
  
"Erik," Christine pleaded, tears gathering in her eyes, "Erik, Erik, I would never want that... I'm sorry I lied, I'm sorry... forgive me, and then the truth will come from me."  
  
"I will never forgive you Christine! I may say I do, but my heart will never forgive you for what you have done... some scars just don't stop haunting.." Erik muttered. "But I'm begging you, if you can tell the truth, my death will be a more peaceful one; every second you lie is another second you cut me deeper, and I must know!..."  
  
"What must you know?" Christine asked clearly.  
  
"I must know... if you fear me... if you hate me..." Erik said this very delicately.  
  
Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "The truth is... I do fear you."  
  
Erik nodded in agreement. "As I thought, mademoiselle."  
  
"But I do not hate you," she whispered. Erik didn't follow. "I do not hate you! I do not."  
  
"Do you lie again, Christine? Do you lie?" Erik choked weakly. "Can I trust-"  
  
Christine stepped up to Erik, making him pause in his sentence, his attention completely on her. Placing her hands on his shoulders, Christine bent to give Erik a completely serious look; even more serious... she was on the brink of tears again. "I fear you, but I do not hate you. That is the honest to God truth." Her voice shook a little, but her gaze was steady.  
  
"I love you," Erik barely whispered. "The boy, when you kissed him, Christine... I felt like I was dying..."  
  
"I shall not kiss him again, Erik!" Christine said, "It was a silly kiss.. it was because we were old friends... we were not being serious... it will NEVER happen again."  
  
"Never again, Christine?" Erik asked softly, his voice trembling now. "For if I see you kiss him again, I will not live long enough to be able to speak with you afterwards."  
  
"Never again."  
  
  
  
A/N: Ech, this is forming SOME sort of a plot... I'm sure it'll get better soon, when some REALLY meaty stuff happens... don't get your hopes up, I dun even know what's coming, I just follow my fingers, talk about crazy. ENJOY! :) 


	8. Chapter Eight

Oh, now she had done it. Erik was disappointed with her, and she had agreed never to kiss Raoul again! The only problem was explaining this to the Vicomte himself... She didn't REALLY want to do this. It was all for Erik, and if anyone had seen him the way she had, they would have agreed to ANYTHING at that time! Now she was regretting everything she had promised him...  
  
Standing hesitantly behind Raoul while he was busy talking with some of the opera attendants, Christine took a great breath and wished he would keep talking until night came, so she would have an excuse to avoid him. But he'd notice her sometime soon...  
  
"Ah, Christine!" Raoul smiled sweetly as the attendants stalked off, turning to face his friend.  
  
"Raoul," Christine nodded solemnly, "I must speak with you.."  
  
"What is it?" Raoul asked, turning serious by the look on her face. Before Christine answered, she looked around and asked him to come with her outside. He smiled sympathetically at her request and followed her out the door.  
  
"I..." Christine started, staring pleadingly up at Raoul.  
  
"What is it?" Raoul repeated, taking Christine's hands and giving her his full attention.  
  
"I mustn't kiss you," Christine grumbled, looking away.  
  
Raoul looked around cautiously, then answered with a small smile, "I think it's all right love, your other boyfriends aren't watching..."  
  
"No," Christine shook her head, grasping Raoul's hands harder than he would have liked. "Do you love me?"  
  
"I believe so," Raoul said looking a bit uneasy. "Is everything okay?"  
  
"No," Christine shook her head more furiously, "no, nothing is okay."  
  
"What's wrong?" He asked, trying to pull her eyes towards him.  
  
"We can't... we can't see each other anymore," Christine whispered softly.  
  
"What?" Raoul's eyes went wide. "Why not?"  
  
"We cannot," Christine said, "That is all I can say."  
  
"I'm going to need a better reason than that... is this a joke?" Raoul wondered.  
  
"I am not joking," Christine replied.  
  
"You don't... you don't wish to see me again?" Raoul asked slowly, eyes filled with confusion.  
  
"Raoul, there are just some things you cannot know, and some things that are better off the way they are," Christine said.  
  
"You're not making sense, Christine, is there another man you love?" Raoul asked urgently, whispering and hoping there wasn't.  
  
"No, no, it isn't that..." Christine mumbled, tittering nervously. Raoul let out a deep sigh.  
  
"Oh, Christine, you could tell me anything, couldn't you? Tell me what is bothering you!" Raoul begged sweetly.  
  
"I can tell you anything but this! You will not believe me, anyhow," Christine explained.  
  
"If there is not another man, what other excuse might you have? Do you not love me? Is it me?" Raoul let the sentence hang in the air, the suspense filling the gap between the two of them.  
  
"I cannot say," Christine muttered, looking away. "Raoul; if you love me, you will not wonder any more! Promise me you will never see me again, for our love!"  
  
"So you do love me?" Raoul guessed faintly, "Then why must we never see each other again?"  
  
"If you knew, it would be a danger, Raoul! I'm sorry," Christine breathed uneasily. Raoul gave her a short pleading look as she began to leave, but he stopped her by the hand.  
  
"Christine! I cannot keep your promise!" Raoul said shortly. They stared.  
  
"Then you do not love me," Christine answered before giving the man one last glance before entering back into the opera house. Raoul just stood shocked, staring after her.  
  
What had he done wrong? What was her secret?  
  
Raoul racked his brain; he had taken to her lunch and dinner the past days, they had talked like old pals, they had really seemed to love each other.. What was it, then? He had done absolutely everything that meant that he loved her... where had he shown her differently?  
  
But, as she had said.. 'For our love'... that meant she really DID love him! Then why didn't she want to see him again? Oh, this was confusing...  
  
"Maybe she's just having a bad day," Raoul told himself, trying to go for comfort but made himself even more uneasy and confused. "Tomorrow," he decided, "I shall ask her what is wrong. She could not surely have meant that she didn't want to see me again!"  
  
With that, he strolled sadly off in deep thought.  
  
As Christine was heading back to the lair, all she could think about was how shocked her love had been, and how calm she had to stay as to not arouse even more suspicion than she had with him. Oh, what had she gotten herself into? Of course Raoul would come back, she knew he would. She couldn't get rid of him that easily, but it wasn't like she wanted to...  
  
Why did Erik have to see them together? It was all wrong... and why did Erik have to love her so much? Such a protective, emotional man he was, and she was weakened by that fact. But what else could she have done? Could she have refused?  
  
No, she could not have. She still had heart enough to feel for the poor man cursed beneath the opera house.  
  
A/N: Ech, short chapter. My sister's bugging me to get off the computer. I can't edit this chapter either, so bear with me. Fun. Ah well, review happy! Next chapter, I hope will come soon, but I never CAN tell... ENJOY! :) 


	9. Chapter Nine

When Christine came in sight if him, Erik stood abruptly from his couch, not taking his eyes off of her the whole time it took her to exit the rowboat and enter the flat. She strode up to him and bit her lip, nodding once to show that her deed was done.  
  
"Good," Erik sighed. "I'm sure you didn't tell the boy anything that might lead him to stumble upon my little hideout? Because we really wouldn't want him to... mysteriously disappear, now, would we?"  
  
Christine stared at him in disbelief, but quickly hid her flash of anger. "I never told him a thing."  
  
"Fortunately for you, my dear," Erik continued. Christine resisted the urge to shout, 'And try not to let those green eyes take you over...'  
  
"Gala night," Christine mumbled softly.  
  
"What was that?" Erik asked.  
  
"Gala night," she said more clearly, "I must be off to rehearse, Erik.."  
  
"Very well," he replied sadly. "I'll be watching you, though. I hope you do well."  
  
"Yes," Christine answered. "Bye, then."  
  
And then she left. Erik was left alone to think to himself with Ayesha. He was busy petting her when she suddenly glared, annoyed at something behind her master. Erik turned to see what she was looking at, and it seemed to be the bell he had set up to alert him of a visitor. He had shown Christine a way to slip among the sensitive reeds in the underground lake he had planted to set off the alarm, so it couldn't have been her.  
  
To make sure, Erik stood and set his fingers against the bell. Every few seconds, it vibrated under his touch. Yes, it was going off.  
  
"Christine," Erik hissed softly, "I told you not to tell anyone..."  
  
With that, he slipped out of his house to spy on whoever it could be that trespassed. He couldn't quite make out who the figure was, but he was angry that it was anybody, and the silhouette looked masculine.. WAS it Christine's young man?  
  
Erik dipped into the water, wishing he could still hear; if he had been able to, he would have used his normal trick of mocking a siren. Now he wasn't sure if he would lure the person further, or scare them away.  
  
No matter, he thought, I'll just tip the boat and drown them.  
  
As he neared the boat, his breath starting to run out. Erik touched the side of it without catching the shadow's attention. With one swift movement, he pushed up on the boat while coming up for air, making the rickety thing unbalance and tip, throwing it's captain into the murky waters.  
  
While the man came up for air himself, Erik took him by the head and forced him underwater, the submerged man thrashing helplessly for air. Only when the struggles weakened did Erik decide to look upon his doomed victim, and only then did he recognize the familiar outfit of his Persian friend...  
  
Without even thinking, Erik grabbed the man by the collar and thrust him above the surface, dragging him back to shore and throwing him onto solid ground. The daroga, gasping for breath, was lying stunned in a puddle of water while Erik towered above him with a stern look on his face.  
  
"Daroga!" He whispered icily, "What are you doing here!? Lucky I recognized you, or you would now be dead!"  
  
"What-" the daroga gasped, "are you - doing, KILLING visitors... anyway!?"  
  
Erik didn't understand, but noticing the Persian's distinctly shocked and angry face, he said, "There's no use getting mad, daroga. YOU were trespassing, and I must have my privacy."  
  
The Persian coughed and sat upright. "Aren't I allowed to visit my old friend sometimes?"  
  
"Daroga," Erik sighed, "There's a lot that has been going on, and I'd rather you leave me alone."  
  
Instantly, the Persian's expression turned into one of suspicion. "A lot has been going on, eh? Have you stayed out of trouble?"  
  
"What, are you my supervisor?" Erik asked, rolling his eyes. "It depends on what you call trouble. I'd say I've been in tons of trouble for the past few weeks, but if you're talking about the whole 'Phantom' bit, I'm not at it anymore, no thanks to you."  
  
The Persian started. "You're not harassing the managers anymore? I don't believe it! You're not being truthful."  
  
"Daroga," Erik said, rubbing his temples, "Trust me this time. You of all people should believe me."  
  
"Why should I believe you when I saw with my very eyes, that GIRL coming across the lake in a boat of her own?" The Persian asked slyly.  
  
"I didn't tell her to come back here," Erik muttered. "I want her to come back, I always hope she will come back, and I do not make her stay. She comes on her own!"  
  
"And I'm betting she loves you, too?" The daroga asked sarcastically. "I think you're getting a bit too carried away with her-"  
  
"She says she does not love me," Erik interrupted slowly, "But she does. I know this, because otherwise, she would have left long ago."  
  
The Persian sighed and smiled weakly. "I hope she does love you, Erik. But... something's bothering me."  
  
"What is it?" Erik asked, dragging out his words.  
  
"You're staring at me in the most peculiar way," he answered. "Why... you haven't taken your eyes off of me the whole time we've been talking! And yet, you're not looking at my eyes. What is so fascinating about my mouth?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Erik grumbled, shifting his eyes to the cave ceiling.  
  
"Erik?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Erik?"  
  
The phantom looked back to his friend, staring at him.  
  
"Erik...?"  
  
"What?"  
  
The daroga looked puzzled, then covered his mouth, shouting, "You, man, are a very stupid fellow!" Erik just stared.  
  
"What are you doing?" He asked rudely.  
  
"Coughing," the daroga murmured thoughtfully. Covering his mouth again, the Persian yelled, "Your cat should burn in hell!"  
  
"You might want to drink some tea, daroga," Erik commented.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me, Erik!?" The Persian cried angrily, "Did you think I was stupid!?"  
  
"What are you on about?" Erik wondered, taken aback by the sudden explosion.  
  
"You can't hear a word I'm saying, can you?" The Persian asked triumphantly, glad he had figured out what the phantom was trying to hide from him.  
  
"Nonsense," Erik replied quickly, although a little too uneasily, "How'd you come up with THAT idea?"  
  
"So how'd it happen?" The daroga asked, ignoring Erik's desperate explanations. "What did you do this time?"  
  
"I didn't do anything!" Erik burst, shouting louder than he had intended to. "Will you stop trying to blame everything on me!? It's already hard enough without you attempting to make me guilty! I haven't asked for 20,000 francs for a while now, are you happy? I haven't bothered anybody! Christine has been coming down here to try to help me, all right? And you know what else!? It's been a total waste of time because all I've gotten is worse if anything, and I saw her with a man! Yes, and I saw her kiss him! I've lost my music, I'm losing my love, and with it I'm beginning to lose my mind, is that what you wanted to hear, daroga!? Tell me if you're humored by this, or that somehow I've brought it upon myself, because if you think I've deserved it, please tell me, OH GREAT friend of mine!" That last bit was said sarcastically, and as Erik finished, all they could do was stare at each other.  
  
There was a sad little pause as both men's eyes wandered away from each other.  
  
"I'm sorry for troubling you," the Persian said sincerely although he grumbled.  
  
"No," Erik said shaking his head, "I'M sorry for dragging you into this."  
  
"I should be going now," the Persian sighed faintly.  
  
"You should be staying for tea," Erik objected suddenly.  
  
"Do you mean it?" The Persian asked. "No doubt all I've done is make your matters worse. A worthier man than I would leave right now, and never show his face to you again."  
  
"There is no worthier man than you," Erik muttered impatiently, "And if you were my true friend, you would stay for tea, damn it, I need the stress relief, and if not that, the company!"  
  
The daroga smiled weakly. "Nice to see you again," he murmured slowly as Erik gave him his hand.  
  
"At long last," Erik nodded, "my friend.."  
  
  
  
A/N: YES! A long.......er chapter! Hurrah! Hope you guys liked that one, I just love the Persian! I doubt there will be less of him! Teehee! ENJOY! :) :) :) 


	10. Chapter Ten

The drinking of tea was a silent process... Erik obviously didn't want to talk, and only needed the Persian for the company. He let Erik do as he wanted, to relieve him of as much stress as possible. The drink tasted nice, and reminded the daroga of his earlier years in Persia where he was a wealthy policeman... a fine time. And then he met the phantom...  
  
It wasn't that Erik ruined his life or anything... it was just that after a while, the man's stubbornness and pride got the better of him, putting more independent thoughts into his head... and becoming his friend. The Persian knew it was the end of his career the moment he helped Erik escape the Shah- in-Shah, but at the time he would have risked anything for him.  
  
Now, it was different. Erik never wanted to be around him anymore, and would become more hateful of the human race and secretive every day... he just wasn't the same as he had once been.  
  
When night fell, Erik had to let the daroga go back to his home. He decided once Nadir was gone, he could take a trip to the auditorium, to watch Christine perform. So he did just that.  
  
Huddled in the pillar of box five, Erik watched. He watched La Carlotta, and just how wide her mouth could stretch... and he watched Meg, prancing like a doe on stage, her small feet seeming lighter than air. And he watched Christine...  
  
She was a whole different story... What a dancer she was! Such graceful movements couldn't come from another person; she seemed to flow right across the stage. And when she sang, he knew she was terrific, though he couldn't hear a note. He watched her lips curve so perfectly, and the ovation she received was tremendous.  
  
The opera was over too soon, and while the audience stood around, waiting for the back rows to file out of the cramped doors, Erik moved swiftly towards Christine's dressing room behind the wall. When he got there, she had just arrived as well. She was alone.  
  
"Christine, that was an excellent performance," he said in a hushed whisper.  
  
"Erik," Christine smiled softly. "I knew you would come. I hurried back here as fast as I could."  
  
The phantom didn't read, but asked Christine to come back with him to the fifth cellar instead of going home that night.  
  
"That would be nice," she answered.  
  
Erik emerged from the hidden trap door in the mirror, taking Christine by the hand and pulling her through safely. They walked on in darkness and silence, the only guide Christine had was Erik's hand as he steered her through the endless maze of passages. Only when the faint glow of the light of the phantom's house shone on the two of them, did Christine notice his slight clumsy step, which was most unusual for him.  
  
Steering in front of him, Christine asked, "Erik, what is the matter?"  
  
He seemed puzzled. "The matter...?" he trailed off.  
  
"You're not walking normally," Christine answered. "Is there something wrong?"  
  
"Oh, that," Erik sighed, waving his hand. "Yes, I DID hurt myself a couple of weeks ago, didn't I?"  
  
"Erik, I don't think you just hurt yourself," Christine said in a motherly tone, "Let me see your foot."  
  
"No," Erik pulled away, "I don't care. I can't feel a thing."  
  
"I think you're not being truthful," she answered sternly. "Let me just take a look, and if you're fine, then you can expect my apologies, if that's what you want."  
  
"Christine..."  
  
She gave Erik a look that said, 'object and I'll deck you'.  
  
"Let's go inside," he suggested, leading her into the house.  
  
"Will you let me take a look, then?" Christine asked.  
  
"Yes," Erik muttered.  
  
"Good," she said, sitting gently on the couch as if it would fall through if she actually sat on it. Erik decided to join her, but carefully seated himself so that not even their clothing touched. Almost instinctively by now, Erik rested his elbow to the arm of the couch, staring at Christine lips and waiting for her to speak.  
  
"Can I see now?" Christine asked impatiently.  
  
"It's nothing," he tried once more, "I've been just fine..."  
  
"Let me-"  
  
"All right!" Erik huffed. Nothing happened.  
  
"Well?" Christine grumbled.  
  
"Well, what?" He asked slowly.  
  
She made a wild grab for his foot, tearing off his shoe with one swift movement. Erik gave a loud shout of pain and his eyes widened in shock.  
  
"You didn't tell me you were going for it!" He yelled.  
  
"You knew what was coming," Christine answered quietly, staring down to the phantom's broken foot. "This looks simply AWFUL!" She cried, bending down to take a closer look.  
  
Erik rolled his eyes. "It looks worse than it really is."  
  
"I don't think so," Christine shook her head. "It's clearly broken! Shame on you for WALKING on it! And for weeks now, it may not heal properly!"  
  
"I don't mind," Erik grumbled. "I think it will heal just nicely."  
  
Christine took one more look at Erik's purple/black limp foot, and stared him in the face. "Why do you hurt yourself, Erik? Why won't you let anyone help you?"  
  
"It's the least amount of pain, Christine," he yawned in defense, closing his eyes for a moment.  
  
"No. You're going to let me bandage this right now," she answered, "And I don't want to see you on your feet for at least another week! Erik! Are you even paying attention?" She waved her hand in front of his face.  
  
It seemed that all those sleepless nights had just caught up to him, when Christine found that Erik was asleep. Just peacefully dreaming away as she sighed helplessly.  
  
"What am I going to do with you?" She asked the phantom, even though he could not hear her. "This is better, I can say that, you stubborn man. Just get your sleep..."  
  
With a long exhale of breath, Christine pulled his leg gingerly to the table and set his foot right, rummaging around for bandages as his chest rose up and down, steadily... gently...  
  
"I think back on what you've done in the past, and wonder why I put up with you," Christine said to no one, but aiming her talk towards Erik. "And then I make up the excuse that it's out of fear. After that, I contradict myself, thinking but... you, sweet devil, are strangely - when will be the day I finally gather enough courage to admit it to you -... likable."  
  
  
  
A/N: Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah! What do I have to say for ya'll toDAY? Ahem, 'scuse, to NIGHT... Hope you enjoyed that! And ummm... more to come! Next chapter will be up... soon! :) 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Erik finally began to feel the aching, annoying pain in his foot. It turned back to it's normal color only a couple weeks after Christine made him bandage it properly, but he couldn't put his weight on it. Well... he could, but Christine wouldn't allow that.  
  
Every few days, Christine would leave back to her world, in which Erik would imagine many horrible things happening... the nightmare that she would never come back, or that she would tell her man about his flat... To keep himself from thinking such things, he would often invite the Persian to have tea with him, or talk to Ayesha. What a mad thing to do...  
  
One sunny morning while Erik was asleep in the darkness of his home, he awoke suddenly at the distinct vibrant feeling of his intruder bell. He had removed it from the wall and put it in his pocket to be able to feel it, and had forgotten to take it out when he went to sleep. Now, it shook annoyingly under Erik's arm.  
  
Grumpy and not in the mood for company at such an early hour, Erik jumped out of bed; a horrible habit for one with a broken foot.  
  
"Damn!" He cursed, picking his bandaged foot up as if from a hot iron. Looking furiously outside, he saw nobody, so figured the person was in the torture chamber. Good. Easier to do away with someone in that mirrored room...  
  
When Erik peered through the little window of the torture chamber, he saw his tree, the gibbet in it, and a dark, shadowy figure clumsily working his way around the room, searching for a way out.  
  
"Clumsy fool," Erik hissed to himself, "Just to think... ending up in my torture chamber of all places..." He flipped a switch and the deadly room flooded with light. The man's face was visible now, and Erik recognized him as one of the bumbling stage hands.  
  
The man, who was known as Bouquet, glanced frightfully around as the torture chamber lit up, although he failed to notice the small window near the ceiling in a corner.  
  
It was odd... When Erik once would have found pleasure in watching a man slowly go mad and finally kill himself in the torture chamber, all fun was gone, and if anything, he just wished Bouquet would find the hidden spring and leave him alone. but he knew he could never let the man back above ground; he had seen too much already. How long would it be before Bouquet told all of Paris he lived where he did? Joe had to go.  
  
Sighing, Erik turned around, trying to ignore the light form the torture chamber. But another problem arose... How was he going to get the body from his room to the stage once the man was finally dead? He didn't want to have to do away with the corpse by throwing it into the lake; it would find it's way to shore, and that would scare Christine if ever she saw it, and he wasn't well enough to carry a heavy dead man five floors to the stage... well, maybe he could...  
  
No, what was he saying? He knew what he was going to do...  
  
Erik was going to hit Bouquet over the head with something. Yes, that's what he'd do. He would hit him, knock him unconscious, and drop him off somewhere between where he was and the surface. Hopefully, Joseph would believe his whole experience to be a dream, and obviously have fallen asleep on the job of checking an underground floor. And then he'd go on doing his usual work without another thought. Better yet, he might lose his memory of Erik's place...  
  
Grabbing the heaviest thing he could find first, which happened to be a paperweight from the mantle, Erik slipped up to the window, pulling the switch down and consuming Bouquet in darkness again. The man could not see in the dark as Erik could, and it was easy for him to find Joseph shuffling about blindly as he opened another hidden door that could only be unlatched from the outside.  
  
Creeping like a cat and hoping to God that he wasn't making any noise, Erik brought the paperweight above his head and thrust it down hard on Bouquet, the metal against his skull making a coconut-like impact, splitting the man's thin flesh underneath his hair. Blood oozed from the wound, and Joe crumpled to the floor, automatically unconscious as Erik had intended.  
  
Everything went smoothly... he dragged the body to the second cellar; the farthest he could go without causing excruciating pain in his foot which now was not used to the pressure of walking. To get back down to his home, Erik had to carry himself on one foot, lucky for him he was as exceptional balancer. Once he was to his bed, he collapsed softly to it, letting his foot rest which throbbed with pain while falling into an exhausted slumber.  
  
When he woke up only a few minutes later, he found Christine hovering above him.  
  
"It's about time," Erik yawned, sitting up.  
  
"I can't have people suspecting something," Christine answered. "I have to be gone for a time."  
  
"You mean those chorus girls haven't started rumors yet? You haven't EVER told them you've been visited by me?" Erik looked doubtful.  
  
"I DID mention something about an Angel of Music once... but I'm positive they've all forgotten about that," Christine said.  
  
"I'm sure," Erik muttered.  
  
Christine's eyes widened. "Why - you've got blood on your hands, Erik!" She pointed to his fingers, which he looked at.  
  
'Oh, disgusting,' Erik thought to himself. 'Now I'm in for it...'  
  
"I... hurt myself," he said quickly, hiding his hands from view.  
  
"How?" Christine frowned.  
  
"My knife slipped," Erik said hurriedly, "I was cutting in the kitchen."  
  
"Oh," she bought it. "Try to be more careful next time."  
  
"Stop that," Erik grumbled.  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
"Stop pretending to be so protective."  
  
"Erik..."  
  
"I'm serious!"  
  
They stared at each other.  
  
"I'm not pretending," Christine said slowly. "I was just reminding you." And with that, she left the room.  
  
As soon as she was out of sight, Erik leapt from his bed and rushed to the bathroom, scrubbing his hands thoroughly, almost tripping himself with his dead foot on the way back.  
  
"Erik?" Christine poked her head out of her bedroom, hearing shuffling noises. But by that time he had made it back to his bed safely, leaving her to sigh and close the door again.  
  
  
  
A/N: Aiiieeekkk! I actually know what I'm going to do next chapter, so it's going to be better than this one. ENJOY! :) 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Raoul hadn't talked to Christine in over a week, and it was driving him insane. Exactly what he had done wrong to make her want to avoid him was innocently unbeknownst to him, and every time he spotted her, trying to catch her attention, she would be gone before he arrived at her recent spot. It was as impossible to catch Christine as a bumbling hunter after a young deer.  
  
Yes, Christine ironically had said that Raoul did not love her if he were to pursue her, though he did anyway, and of course he loved her! She should have known that. What was she trying to hide? Why was it so terrible, that she couldn't tell the man she loved? Or so she claimed to love...  
  
Raoul started to doubt that the affection Christine had shown for him had been real, and the few weeks in which they reunited after so long seemed only to be a dream.  
  
Along with confusion, came jealousy... He was jealous of the man he had created in his mind that Christine now loved instead of him. That's what it had to be! What else? What else would drive Christine from him, than a better man? That must have been it. He didn't want that to be right, but if the truth was not told soon, he was sure he'd go mad.  
  
Raoul left several notes for Christine so they could meet, all of which she ignored. He wrote her a different letter every day, telling her in some way that he loved her very much, and wanted to speak with her, and was wondering if she loved him still, and wanted to ask if he should be doubting their love, or if he should even be thinking of such a thing...  
  
Finally one morning, as Raoul was leaving his house to find Christine again, a task he was obsessed with doing by now, he found an inconspicuous little note tucked part-way under his doormat. He took it up, opened it and found only a few messy words scribbled on the paper, saying that he should meet Christine at the masked ball that evening, she would be wearing a black domino. It told him he should wear a white one.  
  
The day passed slowly, most of the time with which he used to pace nervously around. Minutes seemed to pass like hours, and by the time the clock struck six o' clock, he was wondering whether she was just playing a cruel joke and she wouldn't be there at all, leaving him to wander around like an idiot looking for her the whole while.  
  
He wore what he was instructed to, and arrived at the masked ball not at all fashionably late, and began trying to scout out Christine first thing. With huge relief, Raoul caught sight of her... or what he thought to be her...  
  
He waved to the person with the white domino, trying to catch their attention, and he saw clearly that they waved back, and wove through the crowd towards him.  
  
"Christine-" Raoul started, but he was instantly hushed by fingers being placed on his lips, and was motioned to follow her to wherever she was going. Feeling lighter than he had a little earlier, he passed through the crowd with Christine leading the way. He knew where they were going after only a while of walking; to her dressing room.  
  
When they arrived, Christine looked down the hall as if she were expecting someone to be there, then finding there was nobody, she closed her door behind her and looked to Raoul uncomfortably, though he could not read her expression underneath her mask.  
  
"Christine I must know-"  
  
"Raoul, you will know what you must in time!" Christine interrupted him, shaking her head. "I told you in the name of our love that you should not pursue me; that it may be very dangerous to see me again."  
  
"What danger do you speak of, Christine?" Raoul asked pleadingly. "You should tell me now. I must know if what I think is the truth!"  
  
"What do you think?" Christine asked softly, staring at him warily.  
  
"I think... that you do not love me! And maybe you have never loved me!" Raoul removed his domino and paused for a moment before continuing. "Christine... am I correct that you love somebody else? I'm beginning to doubt if you're really as honest as you appear to be, and I know you're hiding something very dark, or you would not be avoiding me; and what else could it be? Have I been blinded by my love for you this whole time? Should I really be despising you?"  
  
"If you really loved me, you would never think that!" Christine replied quickly.  
  
"I do love you! But have you ever said that you loved ME?" Raoul searched her eyes; all that he could see of her face.  
  
"Dear, you have to trust me," she answered in a hushed tone, "You must."  
  
"You avoid telling me still," Raoul pointed.  
  
"He cannot hear me tell you... that I love you," Christine said slowly.  
  
"So there is someone else?" Raoul burst.  
  
"I do not love him!" Christine said quickly, "He has me against my will."  
  
"I don't understand, who is 'he'?" Raoul asked.  
  
"'He' is Erik! The lonely man that lives underneath this very building!" She replied.  
  
"How can I believe you?" He moaned, "What a tale!"  
  
"It is not a tale," Christine said urgently. "Please try to believe me! It may sound untrue, but it isn't! Raoul..." she took off her own mask now, and they stared at each other for a few seconds before anyone did anything.  
  
"Tell me... what do you have to do with this man, if you tell the truth?" Raoul asked kindly, waiting impatiently for her answer.  
  
"Remember what we were told about the Angel of Music? Don't you recall the times my father told us the story, and how he said when he died, he would send me the Angel?" Christine waited for a reply.  
  
"Yes..." Raoul said, "But what has this got to do with-"  
  
"Please, let me continue if you will, I am getting to that. I assure you there is a link," Christine said, now more hushed than ever. "A few months ago, I thought I was visited by the Angel of Music one night in my dressing room, because the voice with no owner was so pure and beautiful. I couldn't see him, I could only hear him. He also told me that he was the Angel. I believed him. He taught me to sing, and I kept on believing his story until he finally took me down to his home."  
  
"His home? This Angel has a home beneath the opera house?"  
  
"Don't mock me, Raoul! I do not lie," Christine said piercingly, making him regret his moment of sarcasm. He let her continue. "He took me by my mirror! I thought he was an angel up until then, until he opened my mirror just there in the corner, and took me to where he lived. He admitted that he was not an angel, but just a man, and he wanted to teach me. So he did, and no matter how unbelievable this may sound..." she trailed off.  
  
"Continue," Raoul said, his voice emotionless.  
  
"He... Erik... whom was a strange fellow because he wore a mask, told me that I was safe as long as I did not need to see what was underneath it."  
  
"The mask?"  
  
"Yes, that," Christine said, nodding. "And he taught me the most wonderful things, too! But I had to find out what was behind the mask sometime, and what I saw when I pulled the black leather away, was a horrible face! It was death's head!"  
  
"Now you're just telling me 'Phantom of the Opera' stories! What kind of fool do you take me for, Christine?" Raoul stared with sadness toward her.  
  
"Listen! He... he told me I could never leave him, because as long as I had not seen underneath the mask, I would have thought him handsome! But then that I knew the truth, he wouldn't let me go. But he did! I told him I did not care, and that he frightened me at first, but now it was nothing, because... when I revealed his face, he was such a pitiful creature! But he let me go later because I told him I would return to him! I told Erik I would remain faithful because I still wanted to be taught."  
  
"But what does he have to do with us?" Raoul asked, still doubting Christine's farfetched story.  
  
"He saw you and me together! He loves me, you know; he is obsessed, I think, and it scares me! He saw you and me, and he was incredibly jealous!" Christine explained. "So he told me that I could never see you again, and if I did, he would die!"  
  
"Why do you see him, if he is so horrible!?"  
  
"I pity him, and fear him above everything else! I dare not think of what he might do..." Christine once again trailed off.  
  
"How can I believe you?" Raoul repeated, shaking his head sadly. "It sounds like a story!"  
  
"If you... if you love me," Christine tried again softly, tears welling in her eyes. "You have to believe me! You are the only one I will give my love to!"  
  
"No, you are NOT playing," Raoul realized with guilty relief, watching Christine weep, "Forgive me... Will you ever?"  
  
"I will, if you believe me," Christine gasped tearfully as Raoul took her hands lightly.  
  
"Why did you say that he cannot hear you tell me you love me?" Raoul asked.  
  
"He has recently gone deaf, dear! And he is so sad, I must return to him," Christine answered.  
  
"It's awful!" Raoul said.  
  
"He's kinder nowadays..." she murmured.  
  
"Christine, I'm sorry," Raoul reminded her with assurance.  
  
"Do not be sorry... it is all right. But... please; he must not see us together, you understand?" She looked hopefully up at him.  
  
"There must be another way!" Raoul protested softly. "Why does he get to chose our fates? I love you, and you love me! He can't keep us apart!"  
  
"Yes, he can! Raoul, please! Promise me you will not try to find him! And promise me that you will not bring this subject up again," Christine was very close to him now.  
  
"But I must see you! If I don't, I'll go mad!" He said.  
  
"Erik has promised not to spy behind the mirror in here anymore," Christine whispered. "We can meet in my dressing room... but we must be very cautious!"  
  
"How can you trust him?"  
  
"He keeps his word, I assure you," Christine said. "He will not be behind my mirror ever again. He told me he will respect my privacy, and I trust him."  
  
With that, Christine opened the door to her room, showing Raoul down one hall, as she made her way down another. And as they parted, their spirits grew closer together. It was a shame that they could not predict the trouble that lay in store for them...  
  
  
  
A/N: Long chapter. I hope that makes up for all the time I took NOT writing it! Next chapter MAY take as long... sorry 'bout that! Hope you ENJOYED! :) 


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